Spring Killing
by Izumine Kisamine
Summary: Alfred wasn't the tidiest person in the world, but even he had to tidy up the house every now and then. His other half, Arthur, was the clean freak around here and was usually the one to do all the cleaning and tidying and laundry, but Alfred knew that every so often the Englishman needed a break. It was one of those days when it all started… Simple 2P!verse two/maybe three shot
1. Discoveries

_**Heya, guys! I've been thinking that I should do something more serious after my lovey-dovey clichéd stories that I've been industriously churning out lately. Me being on a little Hetalia kick at the moment, this is what happened~ Enjoy!**_

_**WARNING; Human World AU, 2p!England, blood and intimate scenes!**_

_**I don't own the characters used!**_

_**~X~X~X~X~**_

Alfred wasn't the tidiest person in the world, but even he had to tidy up the house every now and then. His other half, Arthur, was the clean freak around here and was usually the one to do all the cleaning and tidying and laundry, but Alfred knew that every so often the Englishman needed a break. It was one of those days when it all started…

…

Alfred's eyes flickered open in the morning light of the bedroom. He breathed deeply and stared at the ceiling momentarily before looking down at the sleeping blonde on his chest, who looked peaceful and calm with his thick brows furrowed. The sandy blonde let out a small "Aw~" Before sliding himself out from under the other man and slipping his legs into the first pair of jeans he found lying on the floor of the room, after having been hastily discarded the night before. He stood for a moment, soaking in the fresh smelling air, before heading downstairs to the kitchen. He had decided to make today nice for Arthur, and even though that meant effort on his part, he was willing to do it if it gave his little Brit a day to relax on his own.

Alfred started with what he knew; food. He was going to make Arthur a lovely breakfast to start off his lovely day that would be followed by a lovely evening and a candle lit dinner and after that… Well, he wasn't quite sure what would happen after that, but he was pretty sure it would end up in bed, or at least on the sofa. So he merrily danced his way around the worktops and cupboards, keeping one eye on the toast and another on the kettle. He slipped a tray out from the imaginatively dubbed "Tray Drawer" and set out a plate in the middle, placing small jars of jam and butter around it. When the kettle boiled, he poured it out and made the perfect cup of tea, just the way Arthur had shown him, and took the bread out of the toaster, hastily retreating his hands when the skin of his fingers started to sting and tingle. After a moment or two of sucking his fingertips in an attempt to minimize the pain, Alfred opened the cupboard at the end of the worktop and took out of it a small green glass vase, the exact same shade of green as Arthur's hypnotic eyes that held in it a blood red rose; Arthur's favorite. He had been guarding that cupboard with his life for the past week to make sure that Arthur wouldn't find it. It was hard, but he had managed it somehow.

Swiftly, he swept up the tray and its contents and half walked, half ran back up the stairs to the bedroom. He turned his back to the door, used it to nudge open the door and stepped into the room, wearing a gentle grin. The American perched himself on the end of the bed and placed the tray down beside him. "Babe? Arthur, wake up. I got a surprise for you!" The Brit shifted slightly under the covers at the mention of his name. Breathing heavily he sat up, rubbing his eyes and yawing and looking adorable as he did so.

"Morning, love." He sighed as he stretched his back out and leant against the headboard. His emerald eyes soon settled on the plate of steaming toast and the mug of tea. "You've been cooking?"

"I wouldn't call it cooking, but yeah… I made you breakfast!" Alfred smiled, admiring his culinary accomplishment before delicately handing over the tray to Arthur. "I even burnt myself on the toast. Look." He held his left index finger up to Arthur's face for him to inspect.

"Oh, well, thank you for the sacrifice." The Brit held the wounded hand softly, kissing the tip of the finger, smiling.

After Arthur had finished off the toast and was sat holding the tea mug in an attempt to warm his hands, Alfred announced; "Now, I know you have to go into work and stuff today, so, I thought I would stay here and tidy up a little." He grinned, trying to convince himself that it was totally worth all the effort.

"Thank you. That would be nice." Arthur smiled, kissing Alfred's nose as he got out from the bed and walked groggily over the bathroom. Alfred smiled and took the tray back down to the kitchen to clean away.

A while later Arthur appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, dressed in his "Work Clothes"; a black suit (Minus the tie, which was replaced by a necklace with a tiny union flag charm.) and his battered old converse. He was a teacher, so formal dress wasn't exactly a problem. "Well, I'll see you later, then." He smiled and allowed Alfred one last kiss before he grabbed his keys from a small bowl on the cabinet and walked form the house.

"Right." Alfred sighed, cracking his knuckles and stretching his arms. "Time to get to work." He threw the towel he was holding carelessly over onto the table and walked back up the stairs to the bedroom. That's where he would start.

After what seemed like a lifetime of tidying away and polishing, Alfred at last only had one room left to go through; Arthur's office. Alfred was very rarely allowed into this room, but he had asked the Brit about it earlier and he now had full permission to go through every nook and cranny in the room. Everywhere apart from one drawer that Arthur had specifically forbidden him to open. The sandy blonde began his work; filing away all of the random sheets of paper that were on and around the desk, placing them in the appropriate trays and pigeon holes. Then he moved on to tidying away all the pens and rulers and things that were hiding all around the room, putting them all away in the pen holder on the Englishman's desk. After that, it was only the dusting and vacuuming that was left to be done. Exhausted, Alfred decided that he would leave that for later on, after he had downed some coffee and a doughnut.

With his morale rising just by thinking about the sweet treat which was waiting for him downstairs, the American ran down to the kitchen, flicked the kettle on, opened the fridge and retrieved a doughnut from inside it, all in one swift movement. After the kettle had boiled, he stirred up the coffee and placed the doughnut on a plate as carefully as if it were the crown jewels and returned to Arthur's office upstairs, where he could sit down and put his feet up.

Alfred surveyed the room, his eyes gleaming with pride. He finally knew why Arthur was always cleaning; it felt amazing when you finished it all. He let out a sigh and finished off the last of his doughnut. He was going to sleep well tonight. After a quick stretch, he placed the still half full coffee mug on the desk and went to get the hoover when something stopped him.

Some kind of weird nagging feeling in the back of his mind. It told him to stop. To not cross the threshold. But why? What was it? Then something clicked. The drawer. The one that Arthur had specifically told him to stay out of. What was in it? They had sworn to not keep secrets from one another, and yet there was something that Arthur wanted to hide? Alfred tried to think nothing of it, or think that it was just a Christmas present or something that he just wasn't allowed to see yet. The blonde left the room, hoping that doing so would get rid of the doubt. When he returned to the office with the vacuum trailing along behind him, the doubt was still there, screaming at him like a man teetering on the edge of oblivion until he could take no more of it. Slowly, Alfred approached the drawer, reaching out a hand, as if to keep it at arm's length. He took hold of the handle and gave it a sharp tug. It wasn't locked like he had thought it would be. Cautiously, he slid the drawer open…

…What was that?

_**~X~X~X~X~**_

_**Don't you just love a good cliff-hanger? I know I do! But, hey, I'm cruel like that~ Well, what was in the drawer? Ideas on a post card, please! Stay tuned to find out what is actually in the drawer that creeped out our Hero so damn much~**_

_**~TFV**_


	2. Snapped

_**Welcome back~ You deserve a cookie for coming back~ Any who, before I go off on a total tangent, welcome to "Spring Killing" Chapter two. I hope you like it. And all the warnings and disclaimers still apply.**_

_**Enjoy~**_

_**~X~X~X~X~**_

Alfred stumbled back in horror at the sight of the drawer's contents;

A knife. Not your normal knife. A knife soaked in blood. Fresh blood. Still red blood.

"Alfred?! Love? I just came back for lunch. How goes things?" The sudden voice from downstairs made Alfred jump out of his skin. What was he supposed to do? He had no idea how that knife had got there. Maybe Arthur didn't even know that it was there. Maybe somebody was going to frame him for something? Or maybe he did know it was there. What should he say to Arthur? He could hear the Brit coming up the stairs too. "Calm down." The American thought to himself, "I'm sure there is a totally reasonable reason for this being here." With one last deep breathe, Alfred slammed the door to the draw shut and walked out to the landing to greet his little Englishman.

"Hey there, Artie!" He chirped, trying to forget everything he had seen and thought about over the last five minutes.

"Hello, love." Arthur smiled, his emerald eyes sparkling. He walked up to Alfred and was about to hug him when he stopped dead. "Alfred?" He asked, his voice cracking a little, "Why is there a red stain on your shirt?" The taller blonde looked to where the other was staring. Damn. There was a tiny red stain near the bottom hem of his white t shirt. It was a miracle that Arthur had even noticed it.

Fuck.

Alfred paused, trying to think of some excuse or something to stop Arthur thinking he had been in the drawer, and that's if Arthur even knew that the knife was in there. "Uh… It's nothing, I just… Uh" He swallowed hard, "I ju-just cut myself on a paper knife when I was tidying your office. B-but it's okay now, see?" He held up an index finger briefly in front of the shorter man's jade eyes, which were beginning to cloud over.

"You went in that drawer, didn't you?" Arthur hissed, his face hidden by the fringe of his hair.

"What? No. Of course not! You told me not to, so I didn't. Don't you trust me?"

"I can smell it on you. I can smell the death around you! Don't you lie to me!"

"I swear I didn't go near it!"

…

The Brit didn't respond. Didn't even move.

"Artie? Hey? You still in there?" Alfred waved a hand in front of his boyfriend's motionless face. Suddenly, Arthur's hand snapped up and grabbed the American's lager, tanned wrist.

"I… I told you, no. Yet you still go and nose around in my private drawer?!" His head darted up with almost unnatural speed, and candyfloss coloured eyes glared daggers into Alfred's soul. "So tell me; Did you like what you saw? Pretty, wasn't it?" His grip tightened on the American's wrist, so much so that Alfred was losing the feeling in his fingers.

"Arthur, just calm down a sec would you?"

"Calm down? How could I when you tried to deceive me like that?" His candyfloss eyes flicked briefly down to the little blood stain on the white shirt of the American, "And failed." He hissed.

Alfred began to sweat; the hairs on the back of his neck couldn't stand up more. What had happened to his Arthur? His punk? His babe? Where had he gone? Was he still even there? What if that knife was meant for him next? So many "what ifs" were flying round in his head that he barely noticed that Arthur had dragged him into their bedroom and thrown him onto the bed.

"You can't just do this to me, Alfred." The Brit swiftly exited the room, and his disembodied voice came from the landing, "Everything has a price." When he came back into the room, the knife that Alfred had found in the drawer was firmly held in Arthur's pale, shaking hand, his knuckles turning white. Alfred couldn't tear his eyes from the now fragile looking shell of a man, this man he once loved. He could tell that nobody was in there.

This wasn't Arthur anymore.

"Arthur," Alfred began, opting to go for a different approach of calming down the now apparently homicidal Englishman. "Do you really have to do this? What happened to forgive and forget? Huh?"

"No." Arthur stated, his voice monotone. He seemed to be more focused on the knife between his fingers. "You just have to forget. And if that means I have to rip your brains out, then I will." He paused, as if he was waiting for something, as if he was in a trance or something. "It's all for your own good, Al." Alfred winced at the cheesy nickname that he hadn't been called by in years, only his younger brother Matthew used to call him that. "I wish Mattie was here now…" The American thought to himself, trying not to think too loud in case the person that was claiming to be Arthur could hear it, before he formed a reply; "Do you really want to do that?"

"Yes. Unlike some people, I don't lie." He smiled, giggling like a schoolgirl as he walked over to where Alfred lay on the bed and straddled him, leaning in close so that their foreheads were touching. The now trapped American inhaled the familiar scent of Arthur. "Perhaps it is still him in there, somewhere?" he thought to himself, but tried to convince himself otherwise. He concluded that Arthur wasn't there, at all, and wouldn't even think about treating this new Arthur the same.

"Give us a kiss?" Arthur asked, sounding totally innocent. Sounding like the real Arthur. Alfred couldn't deny that it was inviting; the man sat on top of him smelt so familiar and his lips looked so tender. His eyes sparkled with need and wanting, he was practically panting now. All the same, the taller man had resolved not to give in, and he would try. He would try, even if it was the last thing he did, which it could be. "Come on now love, don't be so hostile. I just want a kiss." The Englishman leant in further so that their lips were not even a centimetre apart. The urge to kiss the Brit was driving Alfred nuts, but still he stuck by his word and ignored all his instincts.

"So, we're playing that game now are we?" Arthur grinned, sitting up again.

For a moment there was silence and Alfred could breathe easy for a second, but it didn't last. Arthur produced another knife that had apparently been sheathed down his trousers, between his skin and the belt he always wore. He rested the tip of its blade under the American's chin. "And there was me thinking you loved me." He applied more pressure to the blade, breaking the skin so that blood beaded from the puncture. Alfred squirmed, wincing at the pinching pain.

"Well I don't!" the American spat. "I love Arthur, not you. You aren't him."

The Englishman froze for a second, seemingly considering Alfred's words. "No. You're right." He sighed. A strange gleam appeared in his baby blue eyes. "Arthur isn't here anymore. I've been hiding in him, waiting to escape. All this time you've been "in love" with him, you've just been in love with the shell that I surround myself with."

"No! Arthur is still in there somewhere, I know it! And he can find a way to get out. And you know what else I know?"

The Englishman titled his head in confusion, waiting for the man under him to carry on.

"Arthur is too stubborn to give in to a flouncy pink bastard like you!"

"Shut up!"

_**~X~X~X~X~X~**_

_**Another chapter down, folks! One more to go! Will Alfred make it out alive or even in one piece? Stay tuned!**_

_**~TFV**_


	3. Reflection

_**And we're back! I'll finish this up quickly and get on with the story;**_

_**Warnings and disclaimers and all that still stand!**_

_**Enjoy~**_

_**~X~X~X~X~X~**_

"Shut up!" Arthur yelled, "Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!" In his rage he brought the knife down into the American's muscular chest, spraying crimson liquid onto both their skin and staining onto the pristine bed linen. "You don't know me! You never knew me! You're always so caught up in your own sodding world and never give a damn about anyone else!" The Englishman's rage subsided and his cries turned to sobs that wracked through his body. "I love you so much," he sobbed, digging the blade from Alfred's body, "but I can never reach you." He breathed heavily for a moment then regained his composure, glaring at his boyfriend with icy hatred in his eyes. In that moment, in that second of mutual contempt for one another, Alfred understood. Arthur was right. He was always more concerned with his own life and never even bothered to ask Arthur how his day was. His problems always came first, and the Englishman was always there, willing and ready to lend a hand. That's what Alfred loved about him. He was the kindest soul he had ever met and he admired him for that.

"Go on." The American encouraged, squeezing his eyes shut and bracing himself for the searing pain that was sure to follow. And as reliable as a German train schedule, the metal blade sliced its way into his body, painting everything around the two men a shade of crimson that could only ever have been blood. Arthur brought the blade down into Alfred's body again and again, until eventually everything was a bloody red mess. Despite his agony, the American soldiered on, trying to prize the real Arthur out from this new, insane body.

"Go on." He echoed, weakly, staring intently with his dying eyes into the sweet, pale irises of the crazed Englishman.

"Why?" Arthur sobbed, his cry wracking through his body, making him shake uncontrollably. "Why do you want me to hurt you?"

"I… I just know that the real Artie would never do anything that I tell him to." The American smiled shyly, "He's too stubborn for that."

Something inside the Englishman clicked. The silver-red blade fell from his hand and clattered to the floor, shattering the deathly silence that had consumed the room before. His candy coloured eyes clouded over and were grey for a moment before returning to their usual grassy green. All the tension from his body that he had been harnessing to harm Alfred diffused, retreating back into the very depths of Arthur's heart once more. Alfred smiled sincerely to himself, thanking the Powers That Be that he was allowed to see Arthur for what he really was one more time was before he had to shut his eyes for eternity.

Arthur shifted his position on top of Alfred before looking around himself in confusion. The room was so familiar to him, yet everything felt so alien to him, as if something was eating away at him and it was right in front of him. Then he saw it. He was right, it was right in front of him.

"Alfred?!" The Brit cried, falling onto the bloodied body that was still beneath him. "Alfred? Wha- What happened?"

"You… You don't remember, do you?" Alfred sighed, breathing laboriously.

"No! But, but what did happen?!" Arthur sobbed. He stared down into Alfred's crystal eyes, his own gaze was sincere and glittering with tears.

"No… I-I don't want to tell you. I don't want you to live with the guilt of knowing what you did." Slowly, Alfred sat up, leaning himself against the headboard of the bed, that was now almost completely red. "But, Arthur," He continued, "You can never forget. Never forget me. All the good times, and the bad. You-" The American winced as a sharp pain shot up his back from one of the multiple wounds on his front, "You have to live for me too, now… You have to live for the both of us… Both of us…" With his dying energy, Alfred leant forward and left a final parting kiss on the Englishman's forehead, leaving a small stain from the blood that was trickling down from his lip on the Brit's pale skin.

"No, Alfred!" Arthur cried, tears streaming from his emerald eyes and mixing with the blood that had painted his cheeks. But he knew he could do nothing but watch as the love of his life sank back onto the bed and grew cold with every passing second. "Alfred…" Arthur uttered, not wanting to forget his name. He repeated Alfred's name over and over until eventually it lost all meaning to him and was just a series of sounds that fell from his mouth.

…

Arthur sat where he was for what seemed like a lifetime, clutching onto the corpse with every ounce of his being. He tried desperately to remember what had happened, but all memory eluded him and he soon gave up even trying. The only conclusion that he managed to come to was that this was his fault. How could it be anything else? Why else would Alfred not explain things to him? But, why would he do this to Alfred? Why would he kill the one person in the entire world that loved him? He gave up on thinking and instead decided that he should get away from the dead air in the room and breathe for a second. The blonde swung his leg over the body and stood. Every muscle in his body screaming at him; he hadn't eaten since breakfast and had been sat in the same position for over an hour. Somehow, he managed to ignore the pain and walked slowly towards the door with blurred vision. As he passed the full length mirror that stood in the corner of the room, something flickered into his vision and caught his eye; the reflection in the mirror was not him. Doing almost a double take, he walked back to the mirror and practically fell back at what he saw; A man, the same build as him, with lighter blonde hair, almost ginger, and baby blue eyes that sparkled with a hint of pale pink. His clothes were the same as what Arthur was wearing, but there were red splatters all over the fabric and there was a knife clutched in his pale, freckled hand.

Arthur could do nothing but stare at the strange "reflection", if he could even call it that. Then all of a sudden, he collapsed to the floor in agony, a throbbing came to his head and all his muscles just gave up on him at last. Arthur buried his head in his hands and sat where he had fell. His vision may have been blocked, but through a small gap in his fingers he could see something move.

The reflection.

The image, as if it wasn't was unnatural enough already, became blurred and seemed to be moving of its own accord. The parallel Arthur stepped through the glass of the mirror and appeared in the room, kneeling down next to the Englishman and grinning like a mad-man. "So love, do you like your little present? I made him all pretty for you!"

"Fuck off!" The original snarled, still in agony and trying desperately to hold back his tears. "I know that you did this!"

"Now that's no way to greet your own self!" The paler blonde chirped through his insane grin.

"I don't care. Why did you do this to him!?"

"It's awful boring being locked up inside you for ages on end; I thought I should pop out for a visit to your world." The smile faded from the doppelganger's face and for one moment in his entire existence he was deadly serious. "But, if I don't have anyone to live inside, I can be a free man."

Arthur knew where this was going and he practically welcomed it.

"Go on then, wanker." He hissed as his psychotic twin prowled towards him, knife clutched tightly in hand.

"If you insist!" The blood-stained man smiled, pulling the knife back to get a good aim.

It was all over in a flash. The real Arthur collapsed to the floor silently, with the faintest of smiles resting on his lips. He was finally with Alfred in a place where they could never be torn apart. He was at peace at long last.

As for the other Arthur, he sighed and stretched his aching arms. Being all cooped up inside that Englishman hadn't done him any good. Deciding to entertain himself here for a while before daring to venture outside he walked across the hallway and into his old self's study. His eyes wandered around the room momentarily before coming to rest on a mug of coffee. He dipped a slender finger in.

Cold.

Stone cold.

Dead cold…

_**~X~X~X~X~X~**_

_**That's your lot folks! Hope you enjoyed it!**_

_**Random information; While writing this whole story I was obsessed with making sure that the coffee got another look in before the end, so I put more thought into that than any of the characters… But that's just me~ 'Till next time!**_

_**~TFV**_


End file.
